


Beyond Bliss

by ellipsometry



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Coming Untouched, Grinding, M/M, Nipple Play, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, is that a thing because it feels like a thing, sweat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsometry/pseuds/ellipsometry
Summary: The tight vest he sometimes wears under his clothes isn’t good to train in, and so he’s donned a white button-down instead.  But the top button is missing and Felix has unbuttoned one more to cope with the heat, to air out his torso and – ah, there it is.  Felix dodges to the left, collar flapping open and Sylvain can make out the swell of Felix’s breast, dusty brown areola peeking out between crisp white, a bead of sweat running off the tip of—“You’re distracted today,” Felix says.  And he has the audacity to lookmadabout it, when he’s the one with his shirt undone to his navel, soft skin drawing Sylvain’s eyes with every swift movement.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	Beyond Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for the [kink meme](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=1288924) <3  
> trans fe, note that afab terms are used

The problem is: it’s hot as hell at the training grounds. Felix’s hair is coming loose from his ponytail, strands sticking to his forehead, and there’s a bead of sweat running down the sharp edge of his collarbone that Sylvain can't stop staring at, tracing with his eyes, daydreaming about following with his tongue.

Not very conducive to training – and Sylvain’s actually been trying lately, is the thing.

Felix whips around, striking Sylvain’s flank with the wooden sword, but the pain dissolves the second Sylvain catches sight of the way Felix’s shirt falls open. The tight vest he sometimes wears under his clothes isn’t good to train in, and so he’s donned a white button-down instead. But the top button is missing and Felix has unbuttoned one more to cope with the heat, to air out his torso and – _ah, there it is._ Felix dodges to the left, collar flapping open and Sylvain can make out the swell of Felix’s breast, dusty brown areola peeking out between crisp white, a bead of sweat running off the tip of—

“You’re distracted today,” Felix says. And he has the audacity to look mad about it, when he’s the one with his shirt undone to his navel, soft skin drawing Sylvain’s eyes with every swift movement.

He knocks Sylvain down easily, and ordinarily it would be embarrassing, but he’s chalked today up to a loss, anyway. Sylvain wheezes, dusting himself off as he stands, and fists a hand in Felix’s sweat-soaked shirt, yanking him closer. “How about a different kind of training today?”

Felix likes to pretend he doesn’t taunt Sylvain, like he doesn’t know exactly what drives Sylvain wild. It’s easy, honestly, when Sylvain makes it so clear how much he loves Felix’s body, how he feels him up under the table during war council meetings; strokes a conspicuous hand across his chest during dinner; rubs oil into his tits and back when they go to the sauna, massaging the stress out of his shoulders.

It's _mortifying_ , honestly, to feel Sylvain’s eyes on him, hot like a brand throughout the day. There probably isn’t a soul in Faerghus who doesn’t know how much Sylvain craves Felix – nearly everyone posted at Garreg Mach has head them, one time or another, loud and unfiltered moans echoing off millennia-old stone walls.

And still, it’s so, so worth it when this is what it earns Felix: Sylvain pressing him against the door of their room, pawing at his clothes like man possessed, burying his face between his tits like it’s the only safe place left on Earth.

“At least—” Felix’s breath catches as Sylvain’s mouth latches onto one of his nipples, sucking hard, tongue flicking, bringing it to hardness. “C-Carry me to the bed at least!”

Sylvain nips at the edge of Felix’s areola, moves to bite the soft flesh around it, cupping both breasts in hand, a perfect handful each. He licks a stripe across Felix’s nipple, then blows cold air on it, and Felix shivers under his palms, hands flying to Sylvain’s hair, holding his head firm, not quite sure if he’s pushing him away or pulling him closer.

“No can do, kitten,” Sylvain’s voice is a grumble against Felix’s chest. He doesn’t seem bothered by the sweat that slicks Felix’s chest. If anything, he’s urged on by it, the taste of salt under his tongue so unmistakably _Felix_.

“You’re an animal,” Felix grumbles, but when Sylvain positions a muscled thigh between his legs, he grinds down instinctively, mouth dropping open, eyes squeezing shut at how satisfying that release of tension feels, the sweet friction of it.

Sylvain’s eyes are blown wide with arousal, and his mouth is eager and wet on Felix’s tits, breath hot and cold as he blows on the spit-cooled nipples. He squeezes and massages Felix’s breasts, buries his face between them and grips, tight enough that Felix can feel the fingerprint bruises forming, the small yellow and purple splotches that will dot his chest in the morning.

He can’t help the way it all goes straight to his clit, the electricity in every too-hard tug of his nipple between Sylvain’s teeth, the twist of his fingers, the soft, apologetic kisses he presses to the swell of his breast. It’s too much sensation, Felix can’t focus, can’t do anything but let Sylvain have him, _use_ him, please him.

“So sensitive,” Sylvain breathes, awe-struck, and Felix can feel him hard as a rock against his thigh. “Love when I play with your little tits, baby? You get so wet every time.”

“Mm— _fuck_ , Sylvain I can’t—” Felix’s knees are going weak, body loose and hot, unraveling with each touch.

“Bet you could come from this, right?” Sylvain twists meanly at Felix’s nipples, holding them there until Felix keens and bucks beneath him, back arching up off the door.

“Sylvain—” Felix’s voice dies in his throat, cut off by a whimper as Sylvain bites down on his nipple, pulling the bud taut with his teeth, tongue flicking at it between his teeth. His other hand grips Felix’s breast, massaging it softly, and the dissonance of Sylvain’s action sending Felix into a fresh haze of lust, eyes glazed over and watering.

The small space between them doesn’t give Felix much room to buck up, so he ends up just grinding, squirming against Sylvain, already dripping inside his breeches. Sylvain likes him like this, he knows. Likes to rile Felix up until he can’t muster the strength to be a brat, until he’s pliant and needy. He likes peel Felix’s small clothes off him, slow, drinking in the way his arousal sticks to the inside of his thighs, likes to drink him in slowly.

“I need it,” Felix whines, voice wet as he sucks in desperate breaths, chest heaving. “S-Stop fucking teasing-- _fuck, shit—Sylvain_ —!”

He’s so noisy when he comes. Felix tips his head back, knocking it against the door, and wails through his orgasm, legs shaking, hands flexing, grasping desperately at Sylvain, pulling him impossibly closer. Sylvain strokes his sides through it, massages up his chest, cradles his face between those warm, familiar hands.

“That was so fucking sexy,” Sylvain leans down to kiss up Felix’s breasts, to his collarbone, sucking a trail of pink spots up Felix’s throat before he can gain the wherewithal to tell Sylvain off for leaving marks. “Goddess, you’re so sexy, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Mm, always am. Yours.” Felix mumbles, throwing an arm over his face, groaning and twitching through the aftershocks. Sometimes Sylvain’s words, his affection, his love – it’s too much. And sometimes, it’s just enough.

Sylvain usually likes to soak in the afterglow. And Felix can feel him, hard and twitching against his leg. But when Felix reaches down to stroke him, Sylvain swats him away with a cheeky grin, and flicks one of Felix’s swollen, sore nipples, grin slicing across his face.

“You think you could do that again?”

**Author's Note:**

> u can yell @ me about horny stuff on twitt [@ellipsotiddy](http://www.twitter.com/ellipsotiddy)


End file.
